


i got a friend that's losing sleep

by CureElie



Category: IDOLiSH7 (Video Game)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Hand Jobs, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-04
Updated: 2019-01-04
Packaged: 2019-10-04 03:15:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,827
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17296703
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CureElie/pseuds/CureElie
Summary: “What's scarier, Iorin, the disciplinary committee that always lets me have snacks in class if I give them autograph boards, or Mikki?”Iori couldn't argue that logic.(Tamaki and Iori hook up at school. Happy 1/4!)





	i got a friend that's losing sleep

**Author's Note:**

> [ insp. ](https://pbs.twimg.com/media/DvoQBJUXcAsZjFC.jpg)
> 
> EDIT;;; I keep messing up posting this LKDSJLKJSDF sorry!!! there was a big chunk missing out of the middle when I initially posted this but it's fixed now!

He’d like to say it started innocently enough, but how could something like  _ this _ ever be innocent? 

 

Tamaki has Iori lifted off the ground, Iori’s legs wrapped around his waist and back against the wall. Their kisses can be described as clumsy, sloppy at best. Iori can’t say neither of them have any experience, but certainly with nothing this… Determined? Intense? Words are difficult for him to come up with when Tamaki’s hands are holding his thighs and ass above the ground, Iori’s arms around his strong shoulders, marvelling at how easily Tamaki hoisted him up. He can feel Tamaki’s rapidly growing hardness just beneath where his ass is braced against the wall, and he can  _ certainly _ feel his own, starting to become uncomfortable confined to his uniform pants. 

 

A few weeks ago Iori would have balked at the idea of doing this where they were. School was a place for focus, quiet away from their busy schedules, but still a place he was expected to be at his best - and of course, for Izumi Iori, his best is  _ the _ best, and the best did not involve cutting class to spend time choking back an involuntary sound as his friend licked into his mouth and ground against him --

 

Well. Yotsuba-san certainly knew how to get what he wanted (and really, Iori thinks as he’s lowered to the floor, his legs a bit wobbly beneath him - this is exactly what he wants, himself. He won’t complain.)

 

\---

 

It had started a little over a week ago, an evening in their dorms after a busy day of recording ending with dance rehearsal for the full group. Tamaki had stayed after to work on his own choreography while the rest of the members disbanded to shower and relax for the rest of the night. The next day the high schoolers had classes and a few other members had their usual work, with drama and variety show recordings as well as interviews for promotional materials. IDOLiSH7 was busy and that was exactly how they liked it -- they had figured out how to coordinate their group activities and leave time for everyone’s individual specialties and time to themselves.

 

Iori had chosen to use the time to finish his own schoolwork in the common area, and had managed to finish it without much difficulty before deciding to retire to his room for the evening. On his way down the hall, Tamaki spotted him, seeming to be headed to shower after wrapping up his extended practice. The top layers of his hair were pulled back in a small ponytail, and he had a towel around his neck, but he stopped upon seeing his classmate.

 

“Iorin! Ah! I need help!”   
  


“Yotsuba-san, whatever it is, can’t it wait--”   
  
“My homework’s due in the morning! I’ll go get it, please I just need you to look over it, maybe explain this one really tough one? Please Iorin you gotta help me!” 

 

They were lines they had been through many times before, and Iori knew how it was going to end as soon as it started. He sighed, resigned. “Fine. Go get your notebook, I’ll meet you in my room.”

 

“Thanks! Be right there.” 

 

“Don’t run--” but Tamaki was already bounding off down the hall to his own bedroom. Iori sighed and headed into his room, sitting on the edge of his bed as he had so many times before - there was only one chair at the desk, so it was simply easier to sit side by side that way. Not a moment later, his classmate arrived and tossed his doodle-covered notebook at him - another motion he had tried and failed to get Tamaki to be a bit more polite with, but the effort wasn’t worth it when they were both so tired. 

 

“Come on, it’s about math this time? Sit down.”

 

“Sorry I’m still all sweaty, lemme --” He strips off his tee shirt in one smooth motion. “There. Okay! Yeah, it’s this calculus stuff…”

 

Living in such close proximity with six other young men made the lines of privacy blur. Certainly, everyone knew to knock when bedroom doors were closed, they tried not to invade on each other in the shared restrooms unless necessary, but between sharing changing rooms and living spaces and hotel rooms on tour, they were truly comfortable with each other in varying levels of undress. It wasn’t a big deal; after all, they had all done photoshoots that were printed for the consumption of thousands - what’s letting your best friends and roommates see you in a towel, compared to publishing the same image for fanservice? 

 

However.

 

It was impossible not to take notice of how there was a good reason those fanservice photos were profitable for their company. Idols had to take care of themselves, stay in shape to keep their stamina up for hours-long performances and keep their physique for modelling gigs. As one of the most athletic members of the group, their best dancer, the tallest and number 5 most desired embrace? Tamaki has the sort of body that men and women alike envy and admire, Iori among them. His eyes can’t help but scan over his broad shoulders and chest, the uncontested “best abs of IDOLiSH7”. It’s hard to believe his classmate eats so much convenience store junk food and spends his spare time napping judging by the comparison that could be drawn between him and some sort of Adonis figure. Tamaki is practically glowing, like one of those Greek legends, he thinks, and realizes with a start that he’s staring, and he’s blushing, and Tamaki’s glorious obliques are sharp and form a perfect V leading his eyes down --

 

Iori tried to think about differential equations and -- what’s on the page of the notebook Tamaki handed him? -- derivatives. because he needed to  _ calm down.  _

 

Tamaki practically flopped down onto the floor next to where he sat on the bed. He’s tall enough, and the bed low enough to the floor, that he could still see the notebook in Iori’s lap if he craned his neck over just a bit. Iori could practically feel the warmth radiating off him, his breath as he posed a question about the assignment but his brain couldn’t quite process algebra at the moment as he tried to shift so his current  _ awkward-inopportune-uncalled-for-unnecessary _ problem is a bit less obvious but. 

 

Judging by Tamaki’s silence, and the blush rising onto the younger boy’s cheeks, it was a bit late for that. 

 

“I-- I’m so sorry.” Iori directs his eyes at the ceiling. He tried to consider graceful ways to handle the situation, because keeling over dead on the spot from embarrassment wasn’t exactly an option. “You can just. Give me a minute? Or ignore it? Oh my god I’m so sorry Yotsuba-san this is so unprofessional--” 

 

“I-it’s fine.” Iori finds himself bringing his eyes back to Tamaki’s face, but the other seems to have found eye contact difficult in this moment as well - the bashful look was  _ cute.  _ And not helping _.   _ “I mean, we’re young? Right? And,” Tamaki rubs the back of his head. “I get it. That’s all I’m sayin, Iorin. Everyone here is hot! It happens.” 

 

The reassurances did make him relax, somewhat, at the very least slowing the racing thoughts in his head telling him it was gross-wrong-bad for him to even consider the rest of IDOLiSH7 in that light. Tamaki’s simple phrasing did remind him, Izumi Iori, while the perfect example of a put-together young man is still, simply, a young man.

 

\--But he really couldn’t stop the racing of his heart nor the pathway southward that blood was taking with Tamaki still so  _ close.  _ He released a breath he wasn’t fully aware he had been holding.

 

“You’re right, Yotsuba-san, but…Please, some space? I’ll finish helping you with this but I...” He trailed off, apparently just as eloquent as Tamaki in this situation. He knew he had to  _ get rid of this,  _ whether that would be with ice cold water or -- well, it would be a cold shower, with everyone home. He was lucky Riku hadn’t already interrupted them at that moment, dragging his beanbag chair down to read in the room while Iori worked. Getting the time and privacy to do such a thing was a task of its own.

 

“Ah. Sorry, Iorin!” 

 

He shuffled a bit, putting some distance between them. They sat in silence for a moment, both trying to get over the embarrassment of what had just occurred. Tamaki is the one to break the quiet, and Iori hopes to return to discussion of schoolwork but his wishes aren’t granted.

 

“Hey y’know one time I heard Nagicchi and someone else hooking up in the hotel room next to mine and Sou-chan’s? And I heard him talking to Sou-chan about lube and stuff, he was like, hey I’m almost out, what kind do you like--”

 

“Wait really?” Indulging in gossip wasn’t something Iori would do often, but, well. “We’re idols! I know Rokuya-san isn’t an adult yet but they should know better. Niichan would have a fit if he heard about it!”   
  


“Mikki does too, probably.”

 

“No. Absolutely not.” 

 

“I swear it! Once he was all snippy with me and Sou-chan when we got home early. He said he was gonna meet up with someone here.” Tamaki paused, frowning for a moment. “Hooking up sounds great and all, I wouldn’t say no to that! But why would you do it here? It’s hard enough, uh, you know,” he finally meets Iori’s eyes again, that blush still on his face, but now he has a small embarrassed smile too, and Iori was about to  _ combust  _ right there on the spot. “Taking care of it myself?” 

 

“I mean, I suppose I can’t disagree with that.”   
  
“So… Do you wanna? With me?”

 

Iori chokes on air. “What? Now? Yotsuba-san we can’t--”   
  
“Nah, like, at school! Or something! I just said we can’t here! I’m an idiot but I’m not  _ that  _ stupid! But if you don’t wanna...”

 

“I do.” His response is quick but he wasn’t sure if he could possibly be more mortified than he already was, and he had nothing to lose at that point. “But is school a better option, really?”

 

“What's scarier, Iorin, the disciplinary committee that always lets me have snacks in class if I give them autograph boards, or  _ Mikki?” _

 

Iori couldn't argue that logic. 

 

\---

 

They never really touched the topic again after that, but he'd be lying if he hadn’t thought about it. Constantly. They hadn’t established when and where, of course not - Yotsuba-san did things with an almost infuriating level of relaxation. He would follow along with the schedules their management team set for them, but it would be a great stretch to even suggest Tamaki planned things like homework or relaxation time for himself. His laid back nature made the idea of making a set time for something like  _ that  _ completely out of the question. 

 

Iori has some restless nights, admittedly, with the unsureness of when or even  _ if  _ they would follow through on the mutual offer that had been posed, and his imagination racing with what would happen should that time come. 

 

So when Iori finds himself being dragged by the wrist into the boy's washroom, he can't pretend he doesn't know why, and he can't pretend he's not  _ completely on board.  _ However, it  _ is  _ the middle of the school day, only one of their short breaks between changing teachers and subjects. “Yotsuba-san, we can't miss English, I--”

 

Tamaki comes to an abrupt halt and spins around -- Iori’s momentum causing him to collide directly with Tamaki’s chest. 

 

And Tamaki  _ pouted.  _ “Forget your attendance record,” he says softly, and Iori wonders how Sougo is so cold hearted to ever deny Tamaki anything when he has this cute, wounded puppy look perfected to an art. “I want it  _ now.”  _

 

\----

 

So now Izumi Iori, model student, behind-the-scenes producer, and cool collected idol, finds himself leaning back against the wall and, while entirely enjoying the heavy makeout session, wanting so much  _ more.  _ He never took Tamaki as the type to take this sort of things slowly, but he’s not sure how to move things forward, himself.

 

“Is it good, Iorin?” His breath catches at Tamaki’s voice in his ear, and at another time perhaps when he was thinking more logically he wouldn’t nod so eagerly, but he really can’t be dishonest at the moment. Tamaki hums low at his response, moving down -- why does his uniform have so many  _ layers,  _ there’s too much between Tamaki’s hands and his skin -- and in a heartbeat those hands are on the waistband of his pants, Tamaki is lowering himself to his knees. “Can I…. Can I suck you off? Please? I wanna.”

 

Iori could swear all the oxygen leaves his lungs at that, he’s almost dizzy with want. He has to take a moment to remember how to speak. “If you want to, then. Yeah.” The words are barely a whisper, his face and body hot. Tamaki hesitates, still, and Iori can’t hold back. “Please, Tamaki-kun.” 

 

Tamaki smiles at that, looking almost proud of himself. “Heh. You called me Tamaki. I like that.” 

 

Iori sputters, but doesn’t have a chance to formulate a response before the other boy is making quick work of his pants and is mouthing at his dick through his boxers. He’s already so hard and ready, pre-come staining the front of them, Tamaki doesn’t spend long on indirect contact before he pulls the undergarments down as well and licks a long stripe toward the head. 

 

Iori is already embarrassingly close when Tamaki takes his cock into his mouth fully, deeper than Iori could have expected right away; he finds himself placing his hand at the back of his teammate’s head, though whether to make him slow down or to chase the sensation he’s not entirely sure. Tamaki continues to set the pace as Iori simply lets his fingers rest in his soft hair, trying and failing to keep himself from letting out almost-words, soft moans and whispered praises. When his dick hits the back of Tamaki’s throat but keeps going, Tamaki holding back his gag reflex to take Iori all the way, he has to put his still-free hand over his mouth to keep himself quiet enough for their current situation.    
  


He has one hand tangled in Tamaki’s hair, one hand muffling himself, and it takes too much to coordinate them to pull back and warn before the tension in his lower stomach snaps all at once and he empties into Tamaki’s mouth with a quiet, high-pitched noise. Iori at least tries to have the decency to let him pull off once he regains a bit of self control but Tamaki continues to bob his head through his release, prolonging it and only pulling off once Iori’s dick is done twitching, oversensitive and spent.

 

And he looks at Iori with his face just a bit screwed up, seeming to consider and judge the bitter taste before swallowing it down. The look on his face is all too similar to the one Iori recognizes from when he needs to force himself to eat green peppers, but paired with the flush on Tamaki’s face and the way he softly panted and looked at Iori expectantly - Iori is met with a surge of desire for a few different things, but mostly --

 

He pulls Tamaki off the floor, uncaring of how he’s grabbing the uniform’s lapels, and captures his lips with his own, the taste of his own release and the drool around Tamaki’s mouth making things slick and messier and all the more satisfying. 

 

When the kiss ends, both of them breathing heavily, Tamaki’s pants are already undone, and it’s too easy for Iori to push down the elastic of his boxers and take the weight of his member in his hand, slowly jerking him off. The choked moan this pulls out of Tamaki just makes Iori chase more of those sounds, quickening his pace already, forgetting to be too gentle. 

 

“Please -- ah -- Iorin please can I--”

 

Before he can respond Tamaki is spilling over his hand. The whine he makes is probably a bit too loud for their current situation, but Iori doesn’t particularly care, it makes him just want more. His body is warm and he feels sated and relaxed and wobbly and. 

 

Sort of sticky. 

 

They stay there, panting and pressed against each other for a moment. Tamaki seems a bit dazed, but Iori  _ really  _ wants to wipe off his hands and. Other things. And being backed against the wall with the taller boy’s head weighing on his shoulder, face hidden in his neck, is making movement a bit difficult.

 

“Tamaki. Get off me.”

 

He takes another moment to catch his breath, then straightens up, stepping back and giving a lazy, self-satisfied smile. “I thought I just got you off, Iorin. Again already? Was I that good?”

**Author's Note:**

> iorin didnt speak to him for two days after that.
> 
> happy 1/4!!! i don't usually write fic so hopefully this isnt TOO bad lmao it ended up a lot longer than i expected 
> 
> find me on [twitter~](https://twitter.com/CureAphrodite)


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